Bowed, Bent, Unbroken
by imgayerthanyou
Summary: -HIATUS- Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire AU. Santana is the princess of House Martell. She rescues a strange, fair-skinned girl from the streets of Sunspear and takes her in as a servant...but things are never that simple.
1. Chapter 1

Santana frowned as she guided her sand steed along the narrow alley her party was traveling down. The horse, a beautiful, pure deep brown that matched Santana's eyes, had been a present for her fourteenth name day a week ago, and she had yet to settle on a name. The mare was easy enough to guide regularly, but the crowded alleys that served as streets in Sunspear made the horse skittish. Every now and then Santana ran a soothing hand over her mare's neck.

The head of her personal guard, Ser Jon Tames shouted commands as they cleared a path through the busy workings of the markets. He could never express it, but Santana knew he was annoyed with her, for it was her command that brought them out here in the first place. But she was bored in the palace, as she usually was (having run out of fresh books to read), and wanted some new material.

Ser Tames had offered to send someone – surely the princess didn't need to go for herself – but Santana itched to stretch her legs, to ride, to see her own city. Ser Tames had no choice but to agree to it, and arranged for a small guard to escort the young Martell.

As a bead of sweat trickled down her temple, Santana regretted wearing her hair down; her gorgeous black ringlets only added to the sweltering Dorne heat. She removed her riding gloves to wipe her sweaty hands dry. She felt a pang of jealousy as she passed a few children, not much younger than her, shirtless and dancing under a stream of dirty water that must have been runoff from a gutter higher up on the building. She envied their shrieks of delight as the water cooled them, even though it looked filthy.

A different shriek caught her attention on the other side of the street; one more fearful than joyful. She looked over, with a good vantage point from atop her mare, and found the source of the noise. A fat man came out of the nearest shop with a tight grip on a skinny girl's wrist. He was cursing at her as she cried and pawed at his hands, but he was too strong for her to break his grasp. As he pulled the girl towards a side alley a little bit in front of Santana's group, Santana realized the man's intentions.

"Ser Tames," Santana called for his attention. He was half a horse in front of her and turned around. _Had he not noticed the girl's cries?_ Santana pointed towards where the man and the girl were about to disappear to.

"That man's about to rape that girl! You must stop him," she said, her voice not worried, but annoyed.

Tames' brow wrinkled. "Princess, she's nothing but a -"

"I don't care what she is. Bring her to me, and see that that man learns a lesson about dragging girls my age into alleyways," Santana donned the tone she'd heard her father use so often, and it did the trick.

Ser Tames motioned for two men of their guard to dismount. They did, and disappeared around the corner where the man had gone. Mere minutes later, her men (or really, her father's men), bearing the Sunspear emblem on their chests and real spears slung over their backs, led the girl to stand before Santana.

"What would you have us do with her, Princess?"

Santana looked down at the girl, really looking her over for the first time. Her skin was nearly pale as milk, her hair golden like sand by the sea. Santana was taken aback by the blueness of her eyes, reminding her of the stained glass panes in the Sept. She wore simple dress, and Santana noticed she was shaking.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, the concern in her own voice surprising her.

The girl shook her head 'no', and Santana felt relieved.

"What's your name?"

"Brittany Sand, Your Grace,"

The last name registered in Santana's mind.

"Ser Tames, she'll ride with you. We're almost back at the castle now, anyway."

The guards next to Brittany looked to Tames.

"Princess, you know how your lord father feels of the baseborn..."

Santana fixed Tames with a cool glare.

"I'm in need of a new handmaid, Ser, and I believe she will do just fine."

The knight considered her for a moment, weighing his position. Would his Prince be more upset at having a baseborn in his daughter's charge, or at the denial of his daughter's wishes? Tames shook his head, resigned.

"Yes, Princess."

The men guided Brittany onto the back of Ser Tames' horse, where she clung tentatively to his vest of boiled leather. Santana waited for the men to mount their horses again, and she watched Brittany's back carefully as they rode on.

* * *

Back at the castle, Santana dismounted easily and went over to help Brittany dismount before Ser Tames could even turn to do so. Santana thought the girl blushed, but it was hard to tell – now that they stood closer to each other, Santana could see smudges of dirt across pale skin. She didn't like that the girl was taller than her, but as soon as she was safely on the ground, Santana turned to her guard.

She directed the man holding a fresh stack of books to bring them to her quarters, her maid would take them from there. Santana thanked Ser Tames for accompanying her, and he only nodded before heading off with his horse to meet the stable boy that approached them. Two more boys came around to tend to the horses, and Santana was pleased to see the careful way one of them handled her mare. _She really did need to name it soon_, she mused.

"Come with me," Santana turned to the girl. Brittany looked around nervously, and Santana felt like a fool. She had brought this girl into her service without knowing anything about her, if she had a family that was waiting back for her in the city. Santana wasn't much for apologies, and she found herself uncomfortable as she turned back around to look at the girl.

"Um, would you like to serve me?" Her dark cheeks flushed at how awkward she felt, a rare feeling in her own castle walls. "I mean, do you have to go back? That man..."

Brittany took her time in answering, and when she did her voice was light and soothing. "I have a mother here, but she will worry maybe a day for me before I am no more than a memory." She thought some more. "And that man...well, I have no desire to return to him."

It was all the answer Santana needed, and she gave a curt nod before turning back around, aware of Brittany's soft steps behind her as she headed towards her room. Her mind raced, curious to learn more of the blonde, but for now she just wanted to get into a thinner, more breathable outfit. She had worn heavy pants and boots to ride, and her long locks clung to her neck with sweat. Even within the castle, made of stone and cooler than outdoors, she needed reprieve.

She found Tyla, her main servant in her outer chambers, organizing the new books she'd bought onto her already full shelves.

"Tyla, that can wait for now."

"Yes, Princess."

"This is Brittany. Show her to an empty maidservants room, please, and help her get washed up and into something more, fitting." Santana eyed the blonde's dirty clothes, and noticed the wear in her sandals. Brittany was tall and slim, but she looked meek as Santana gave instructions.

"And make sure she learns her way around, and the way things work here. She's going to be working with you now."

Tyla gave a small bow and nod of her head. "Yes, Your Grace." She motioned for Brittany to follow, and Brittany gave Santana a quick glance before turning to walk with Tyla. Once they had disappeared, Santana entered her bedchambers and stripped out of her riding clothes, pulling on a cotton dress, dyed deep green and only lightly decorated with simple stitches along the sleeves and neckline. She hated the pomp her Septa encouraged her to dress in.

Santana began to tie her hair up, her mind drifting back to the pale blonde girl. Brittany. Everything about her seemed strange, from her fair white skin to the slow way she thought before she spoke. Santana's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Who is it?"

"Mort, your lord father's squire, Princess."

"Enter," she called back, still examining herself in the looking glass on her wall, making sure her hair was in place. The boy, probably near her age, bowed nervously as Santana threw him a glance in the reflection of the glass. _What kind of name was Mort, anyway?_

"M'lord requests your presence at once, Princess."

"Did he say what for?"

The boy shook his head back and forth, and Santana fought the smile from her lips. _Almost considered a man grown by law, and here he is terrified of his Prince's daughter._

"Thank you. I'll be there shortly."

It was a dismissal, but the boy remained. She could practically hear him gulp as she turned to face him.

"Your lord father asked me to escort you, Princess."

Her blood could only boil a second in anger before nerves took over. Had he already heard about the baseborn girl she took for her own? She knew she risked pushing Tames, but now her throat was dry with worry.

Her father, Prince Santiago Martell, was a stern man, even when it came to her. He held no luxury from her, but he did not stand for rules being broken. He also had no tolerance for bastard children. Santana's mother, Lady Marybyl Lopez, a noblewoman from the eastern lands of Dorne had passed away while giving birth to Santana, and Prince Santiago had fathered no children until three years ago, when he had remarried. That hadn't meant that he had not visited the pleasure houses at night – Santana was no fool – but he had taken great care not to give the world any more bastards.

She looked herself over once more before getting up to walk with Mort down to her father's study. The castle was quiet, and they were in his study soon enough. Her father sat at a large table, books open in front of him and two men across the table, who instantly stood when they saw it was Santana who entered the room. Santiago dismissed his men and his squire, and motioned for Santana to come closer. She stood in front of the table, her hands held together in front of her so they wouldn't fidget.

"I heard we came back with one more person than we left with today," her father's voice was deep but not harsh. Santana felt her face flush.

"Yes, father, I can explain -"

"Then please do." He steepled his hands under his bearded chin, waiting for Santana to go on.

Santana licked her lips, steeling herself to meet her father's dark eyes. She was his daughter, and her mother's daughter – she was not afraid to tell the truth and defend her actions.

"We saw a man, with a girl no older than me, father! I had the men with me take her from him."

"Was she yours to take?" His demeanor was still cool, but Santana grew flustered.

"He was going to rape her! If it'd been me, you'd have wanted me saved, I imagine." She scowled, and he managed a laugh, which surprised her.

"You are a true Martell, Santana. I wish your lady mother were here to see you now," the sadness in his voice was evident, and as quickly as the praise had come, it had been ruined for Santana. Guilt over her mother's death plagued her every day, for as long as she could remember. Her father cleared his throat, his tone returning to its usual rumble.

"Santana, my princess, you know there is no room for bastards in my castle."

She didn't know why, but tears stung the corners of Santana's eyes. She made sure her voice would not waver before she spoke.

"She has nowhere else. He'll surely hurt her worse if she goes back there, or if not him, someone else will. And it will be good for Tyla to have someone younger to help her. She grows old and slow." Santana spouted out excuses like running water. _It will be good for me to have someone who's my age around as well, _but Santana held her tongue as she thought that one.

Prince Santiago eyed her carefully. He sighed and laughed to himself again, shaking his head.

"If the city folk saw how easily I bend to your will, my princess, they'd cry for a new prince, one with a spine."

Santana controlled her grin as best she could. She wanted to thank her father, but she dared not speak.

"But Santana, if I hear of any trouble from this baseborn girl, you know I will not hesitate to dole out punishment as I see fit."

"Yes, my lord father." Santana bowed her head, a sliver of worry in her mind as she pledged on behalf of a strange girl she did not know.

"Now go, before I change my foolish mind. I'll send Septa Cass up to your chambers to help you prepare for the feast tonight."

Santana was mid-step towards the door when her father said 'feast'.

"Feast?"

"Yes, feast. We're having some honorable guests, and I think it's best if you're dressed in the true Martell fashion."

The princess stifled a groan, not daring to annoy her father after he'd been so surprisingly lenient with her. She conceded a mumbled "yes, m'lord father," and quickly left his study, her mind churning, wondering who was coming to Sunspear that he wanted so badly to impress.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Thanks for all your feedback so far! Also, please excuse (or feel to correct/comment on) any liberties/inaccuracies regarding the ASOIAF universe. I'm trying to be as true to it as possible! Anyway, let me know what you think.)_

* * *

"If you keep scowling like that, Princess, your face may stick like that," Septa Cass told Santana as she emerged from her bedchambers.

"Good," Santana said stubbornly. _Let her face get stuck into the scowl that made her look even more like her father. Maybe then they'd stop making her put on these dresses._

Santana stood before her septa who looked her up and down. She wore one of the finest dresses she owned, the fabric deep shades of orange and red, same colors as those of her house. A single gold stripe ran up and down the dress, over her left breast and shoulder, all the way down to where the dress met the floor. Tyla had smoothed Santana's hair after her bath, and now her black locks fell in loose, fresh ringlets around her shoulders. It was hot underneath the dress, one of the heavier ones she owned, and Santana fidgeted underneath its weight, but she was thankful at least for its short sleeves. Tyla had lotioned her skin as well, and her arms felt soft and smooth as she rubbed them, nervous for reasons she did not know.

"Your lord father will be pleased, Princess. Now just remember to smile," Septa Cass smiled expectantly at Santana, whole only nodded. She no longer scowled, but she was too busy wondering who was coming to dine with them to be able to smile. She also wondered where her new servant was – she had not seen the pale girl since she sent her off with Tyla, and Tyla had been back to help her get ready, but Brittany was nowhere to be seen.

Santana and Septa Cass made their way down to the Main Hall, where tables had been set for at least a few hundred people, and where a few hundred people filled those settings. Prince Santiago stood at his seat on the dais, raised up on a platform at the front of the hall. His wife, Olyve, sat in her seat beside him. She was nice enough, but Santana had never really taken to the woman in the first few years of her father's marriage.

Olyve was from one of the wealthiest lord's families in all of Dorne, and Santana knew her father loved the woman, but she was also sure the family's purse helped ease the marriage. She had given Santana's father a son, named Maron, who was nearly three years old now. Santana disliked the babe, not that she would ever express it, or that it was even really fair to dislike one so small. She knew she was the rightful heiress, the future ruling Princess of Dorne – House Martell passed on its rights through age, regardless of gender – but the boy's gender made her nervous nonetheless. As far as she knew, every other House passed through gender – what if people had a sudden change of heart on how they did things?

Everyone in the hall followed the Lord of Sunspear's actions and stood, turning to face Santana as she entered the hall, her septa peeling off to the side so the Princess could walk alone.

"Now we may feast! The princess, _my _beautiful princess, has arrived," her father's voice boomed merrily across the hall, and there were smiles and laughs of excitement, most likely at the prospect of the feast before them.

Santana joined the dais at her seat next to Olyve. At smaller meals she sat next to her father, but tonight there were men to his left practically clawing over each other to speak with their Prince. As the food was brought out, course after delicious course, Santana sat quietly and ate, eyes watching the hall carefully. She still wondered what the feast was for, but she assumed she'd find out by the end of the night.

Eventually, her answer came. Her father had had his fair share of wine, and he called for music and dancing. As the castle's musicians struck up a tune, Santana felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned around, and she immediately knew the reason for the feast.

"Princess," a boy only a couple years older than her knelt before her. He wore pants and a sleeveless tunic of jet black, the only color a rich purple bolt that ran across his top, and his hair was short and as black as his clothes. He was dark, like her, maybe even darker.

"There could be no greater honor than sharing a dance with you this evening," he stayed on his knee, but looked up at her. Santana looked back down the dais and found her father watching her, and he gave her a small nod.

She stood. "Please rise, my lord."

He stood and offered his arm, escorting her down from the dais to where others had begun dancing. Santana thought as they crossed the hall.

"What is your name, my lord?"

"Etric, my Princess, but I am no lord. Yet. I am heir to House Dondarrion."

She smiled politely, but had never heard of his house. He bowed to her and she curtsied back, remembering her courtesies she had learned in her dancing lessons. Etric took the leading steps, and Santana followed easily, her cheeks flushing from both the energy of dancing and from the strong muscles underneath Etric's smooth dark skin, which brushed against her every now and then.

No doubt her father intended to betroth her to Etric, who must have been 16 or 17 years old. Her biggest complaint would be the way he sprung it upon her, not even telling her specifically who she was looking to impress at the feast, and letting the boy catch her off guard.

After a few more dances, Prince Santiago called for the end of dancing, and that everyone be seated for dessert. Etric bowed and kissed her hand before walking her back to her seat, and Santana ate her dessert in silence, like she had the rest of the meal. She was sleepy now, as she had been allowed a cup of fruity wine along with her dessert.

The festivities were winding down, and Santana slipped from the table and made her way back across the palace, her mind and body heavy with sleep. She reached her room and found the blonde girl, Brittany, waiting outside her bedchambers. The girl stood when Santana approached.

"Brittany, good, help me get out of this dress. Where's Tyla?"

Santana opened the door to her bedroom and walked in, stopping so that her back was still to Brittany. She pulled her hair to one side, indicating that Brittany should begin unlacing the back of her dress.

"She said she had a headache, Princess, and that I should mind you this evening."

Brittany stood behind Santana and began untying her dress. Santana smiled sleepily, pleased that Brittany had learned so quickly. Under other circumstances, Santana might have asked how Brittany had fared her first day, or really first afternoon, but now she stifled a yawn and only wished to be in bed as soon as she could. She felt nimble fingers undo the laces all the way down to her lower back, and only then did Brittany hesitate.

Santana shrugged the dress from her body, handing it carefully to Brittany, nodding towards her wardrobe. As Brittany returned the dress to its place, Santana stretched, her muscles tensing and then relaxing as she made her way towards the large bed against the center of the back wall in her room. She was naked except for a pair of undergarments that clung low around her hips. Her breasts were too small to need extra support, and her dresses were always fitted enough to make what she had pop up as much as possible.

Brittany turned back around to see if Santana needed anything more and averted her eyes as the princess strode brazenly across the room to her bed. There was a sheer nightgown already crumpled on Santana's bed that she pulled on before she slipped under the covers.

"That's all for this evening, Brittany, you're free to go, and I'll see you in the morning."

Brittany nodded. "Yes, your Grace." She gave a small bow and closed the large door to Santana's room behind her.

Santana stretched and yawned once more in bed and welcomed the sleep that quickly enveloped her.

* * *

Her father was at breakfast the next morning, which was odd, as he usually ate at different times than most of his palace. When she entered the hall, it was still set for the amount of people from the night before, but it was only filled halfway. Prince Santiago motioned for his daughter to come sit next to him, opposite of Olyve.

He looked at her as she began to dish herself food. "How did you find dancing with Etric?"

Santana bided her time, serving her food slowly and motioning for a servant to bring her water. She had rather enjoyed Etric's company, but not the fashion it was presented in, or her father's intentions behind it. _Always thinking things you can never say, Santana._

"He's a very nice boy," Santana smiled down at her plate before looking up to meet her father's gaze.

"Boy?" The Lord of Sunspear laughed quietly and ran a hand over his beard. "He is the heir to Blackhaven, Santana, and a young man now."

Santana pursed her lips, all her bitter questions bottling up behind them. Her father continued.

"You're to be betrothed to him, and it will be a magnificent wedding, one that will help keep the peace between Dorne and some of the northern cities. And besides, Etric is strong, and smart, and sure to care for you."

He smiled at her, and Santana felt guilty at his sincerity. She knew he wanted the best for her. Santana swallowed and chose her words carefully.

"Father, what if, I want to rule on my own?"

"Rule on your own?" His voice was kind, but his answer was what she expected. "Santana, one day, you will be the sole Princess of Dorne, the Lady of Sunspear – but you must also take a husband."

She knew that – everyone knew that, she just didn't want it to be so soon. She dared not try her father's patience any longer, and returned to her food. As she ate, Santana got lost in her thoughts.

She lost her appetite mid bite when she realized when the wedding would be.

Septa Cass had been constantly reminding her that her "flower" would probably "bloom" any day now. Tears pricked the corners of Santana's eyes and she pushed back from the table. There was nothing less flowery than bleeding from between your legs every month, and wearing rags and feeling like your stomach was being gutted from the inside out. Cass hadn't mentioned those things, but Santana knew about them from overhearing some of the servants joking.

She walked briskly from the hall, ignoring Etric as he tried to ask her what was wrong. She'd probably pay for that later, being rude to the boy – or man, according to her father – that she was supposed to marry, but if Etric was as nice as he was supposed to be, maybe she wouldn't be in too much trouble. Santana made her way to her bedroom and flung herself down on her bed, frustrated with how frustrated she felt; how childish she felt.

A sound from near the door startled her to her feet. Brittany looked up sheepishly from a spot on the floor she had been washing.

"I'm sorry, you burst into your room so quickly, I didn't have time to –"

Santana held up one hand to silence Brittany, and held the other to her chest, where her heart was still racing from being startled. She sank back down to her bed.

"Do you want me to leave?" Brittany was still looking at Santana. "Princess?" She added quickly.

"No no, you can stay." Santana motioned for Brittany to return to cleaning. She watched the girl, who was now wearing a tanned hide vest that showed her mid-stomach and back, along with flowing skirt she was careful to keep away from the water on the floor. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a simple braid, and a hint of lean muscle showed in her arms as she scrubbed.

"Brittany, how old are you?"

"Fourteen, Princess." Brittany looked up for a second before going back to scrubbing. Santana licked her lips, wondering if she was actually going to ask her next question.

"Have you...have you, ah, flowered, yet?"

"Flowered?" Brittany wondered to herself. "Your Grace, do you mean – have I bled yet?"

Santana felt hot, embarrassed to be even asking, especially to a servant, but she still wanted to know. Brittany took her silence as acknowledgment that that was indeed what she had meant.

"Yes, I have." Brittany chanced another glance towards Santana and moved over to scrub a new spot on the floor. "Why do you ask?"

Santana was surprised to have another question asked back to her, and she changed the subject.

"Tell me – where are you from? I've never seen someone with such fair skin before."

Brittany slowed her work down and Santana could practically see her mind churning.

"My mother is originally from Lannisport, Princess."

That was a far way away from here, Santana knew. Brittany had made no mention of a father in either of the times Santana had spoken to her, and it only made the princess curious, but she did not ask. She knew the girl was baseborn, but she wanted to know how, or why. Brittany seemed to be focusing extra intently on Santana's stone floor, and Santana stayed quiet for a little while.

In the silence, her stomach growled loudly enough that even Brittany looked up. Santana frowned, remembering why she had rushed from breakfast without eating her fill.

"It's not fair," she stated to no one in particular as she rubbed her stomach. The blonde hesitated, uncertain, but she responded.

"What's not fair, Princess?"

"That we're weak, that we bleed every month, like wounded animals."

Brittany considered the thought for a moment.

"I don't think it makes us weak, your Grace. I think it makes us resilient. When men bleed, it's because they've been hurt – because someone was stronger or faster or smarter than they were. When women bleed, it's because the gods willed it, and it's no man's fault."

Santana only stared at Brittany, surprised by her words, and the blonde girl flushed bright pink.

"I'm sorry, Princess, I've misspoken."

"No, you haven't." Santana shook her head, mulling over Brittany's words. Her stomach rumbled again, disrupting her thoughts once more. "Brittany, when you're done cleaning, please go down to the kitchens and bring me something to eat. The cooks will know what to give you."

"Yes, Princess."

* * *

Later that day, Santana was in the courtyard practicing her spear throwing. She had begged her father to allow her to carry a spear, even just a small one, but he had refused. The compromise was that the princess at least got to learn how to wield one. Her strength and accuracy had only improved since she'd started practicing, and she was close to, if not on the same level as some of her father's men.

"I can see you are a true Princess of Martell," Etric startled Santana as he walked over to where she stood poised to throw another spear. She lowered the spear as he approached.

"I've never seen someone as beautiful as you wield a weapon, Princess," Etric took Santana's hand and kissed it. She flushed despite herself.

"And I've never heard someone as good with words as you, my lord." She smiled.

"Please, call me Etric. And I mean every word with all my heart. We are to be wed, you know, Princess."

"So I've heard," she did her best not to let her voice betray her. Either Etric didn't hear the bitterness in her voice, or he ignored it, and he smiled at her, a cheeky smile that made him look more like a boy.

"May I watch you throw?"

Santana watched him closely, looking for signs of mockery or teasing, like she saw in the eyes of the other men so often in the courtyard. They could never judge her openly, for her father would have their heads, but she knew they thought it foolish that a girl learned the art of spears. Etric seemed sincere – curious, but sincere – and she nodded, picking up her spear again.

He stood a few steps from her and Santana focused on the straw effigy of a man hanging from the wall. She took aim and launched the spear, smiling when it pierced the target's shoulder. Etric gave a clap of approval and went to fetch the spear from the target for her. He brought it back to her with a smile, and stood behind her as she prepared to throw again, but before she could, she felt him behind her.

Santana started to question him as wrapped his arms around her and held her forearms, but Etric spoke over her. "You have incredible strength, Princess, but let me show you this." He adjusted her arms ever so slightly.

"This will help you aim true," His grip on her slackened ever so slightly and she craned her neck around to look at him. He was taller than her, and light brown eyes looked down at her with a smile in them. Santana felt her breath catch in her throat, and she was unable to speak.

She'd never been held this close by anyone other than her father, or maybe even Tyla once or twice. Etric's eyes darted down to her lips, and she did the same to his. They looked soft, not cracked like lips were prone to be in the dry lands of Dorne.

Was he going to kiss her, she wondered. _Was she supposed to kiss him? _She'd never kissed anyone before, and she realized it might not be very princess-like to do so, especially not in the middle of the spearing courtyard.

She could not say how long they stood there, but Etric broke his grasp and looked away, with what Santana thought was embarrassment on his face. _Had_ he been thinking of kissing her? He opened his mouth to speak, but it was her turn to speak over him.

"Forgive me, Etric, but I must go," and she turned to flee the courtyard, ignoring his cry of "Princess!" as she went.


	3. Chapter 3

_(Sorry for the delay! Suffering major writer's block :c Also a note - This story takes place in the ASOIAF universe but the events of the series are all way in the past. Like any canon characters in asoiaf/game of thrones are ancient history in this world, and will not appear unless being spoken about in terms of history. Hope that makes sense!)_

* * *

It had been three days since the incident in the courtyard, and Santana had paid less mind to it, but she would not allow herself to be alone with Etric again. She was not _scared_, she told herself. She had read stories of her ancestors, who did a lot more than kiss both friend and foe, and she would not let herself mirror anything less than the women of Dorne before her. Santana just didn't want to kiss him – she was no less fearsome or intimidating because of it. To prevent any more potentially awkward situations, Santana ordered that Brittany wait on her, by her side, at all times.

Santana ended up not thinking about Etric at all during those few days, and instead let herself enjoy Brittany's company. The girl was obedient and eager to make sure Santana was comfortable, but she was also rather...funny. Santana found herself laughing more than she ever had at any of the fools her father brought into the palace, not because Brittany did stupid tricks like the fools, but because she made japes under her breath about people Santana didn't like, or she would do something silly just for the sake of it.

Sometimes when they were alone Santana would try to pry, curious about Brittany's life, but then the girl would fall silent, or answer in short, quiet sentences so as not to truly disobey her princess. All Santana had found out was that Brittany's mother traveled from Lannisport to Sunspear while pregnant with Brittany. Brittany would not, or could not, say who her father was.

Now the two girls were spread out on a cushioned bench on a patio that overlooked Sunspear, and Santana was reading aloud from one of her books. At first, Santana had asked Brittany to read the stories out loud to her, but Brittany confessed that she did not know how to read, so Santana had read the stories to herself. Mere minutes passed before Brittany cleared her throat and asked meekly if Santana could read them out loud, so she could hear the stories as well. Santana shrugged and agreed, happy to hear the stories unfold in her own voice. Brittany's happy smile had also made her feel warm, but she assumed it was the sun beating down on them.

"That's been my favorite one so far, Princess." Brittany sat up and stretched her arms, looking over the city that sprawled out beneath them, a maze of narrow streets and cramped buildings, shops, and houses. Santana closed the book and watched Brittany stretch. Over the past few days her maidservant had burned in the sun, her fair skin no match for the Dornish sun that Santana's skin drank up like honey. Santana had sent her to the maester for some cooling creams, and after enough exposure her burns had turned to tans, and her cheeks exploded with freckles.

Santana realized she envied her maidservant's fairer skin and light gold hair. Coupled with her height and slender but strong frame, Santana noticed that Brittany drew a lot of stares when they would walk around the palace together. Dornishmen were not used to her looks, but it seemed they fancied them. Brittany, much to Santana's bemusement, was completely unaware of the effect she had. She was pleasant to others, but stayed faithfully at Santana's side unless Santana instructed her otherwise, and always had this nervous energy about her. Santana hoped it was just the girl still settling into her role.

"One day maybe you can learn to read, Brittany," Santana said lazily as she rolled onto her back and stretched across the lounge. She wondered if the maester would teach a servant how to read. She didn't think so, but maybe if she ordered him to, he would. They continued to sit in silence, enjoying the cool breeze that balanced the sun's heat nicely.

Suddenly, Mort, the Prince's young squire came walking hastily through the open doors and out onto the patio. Santana sat up as he approached, and Brittany got off the lounge to stand up next to it. The boy looked from Brittany to Santana before coming to a halt in front of the princess.

"Princess, your lord father asks that you attend the feast he's putting on tonight, and..." Mort swallowed nervously. "...and that you pay Etric Dondarrion more respect than you have recently."

Santana flushed and Mort dared not meet her eyes. She could sense that Brittany was pointedly not looking at her as well. "Another feast? What for?"

"To c-celebrate the betrothal, Princess."

Santana managed to smirk at Mort's nervous stammer. She regained her cool demeanor quickly, despite her inner frustrations, and dismissed Mort, not even bothering to give him a reply for her father. Once the boy left, she stood up.

"Come, Brittany. Have the maids run up some hot water for my bath. I want to be freshly bathed for my beloved betrothed," her voice dripped sarcasm, but as the girls returned to Santana's chambers, the princess felt her stomach churn.

* * *

"And now, we dance! In honor of my daughter, Princess Santana Martell, and her betrothed, Etric Dondarrion of Blackhaven!" Prince Santiago stood at the dais, raising his cup to the roaring cheers that came from the people in the hall. As he sat back down, dancers clothed in fiery orange and yellow silks came swirling into the hall, their skirts laced with bells that tinkled as they moved. The guests of the feast clapped with excitement, and some got up to dance as the few musicians began playing.

Santana smiled mildly from her seat to the right of her father. Etric was on her right, wearing dark clothes colored only by the forked purple lightning bolt of his house. She sipped from her wine and kept her smile plastered on her lips when Etric took her free hand in his. Santana knew better than to openly reject him in front of everyone, so she just stayed quiet and watched the people dancing. Her eyes lit up with pleasant surprise when she found even some of the servants at the feast, dancing towards the back of the room.

She noticed Brittany, dancing with some of the women, and Santana watched in wonder as her new maidservant moved across the stone floor like she was floating. Santana wondered if her feet were even touching the ground. Brittany was dressed in simple worn leathers and silks, but she looked like royalty as she danced, body winding not just _to _the music, but _with _it. As if she danced with the notes. Santana wasn't sure who led – the music or Brittany.

"Would you like to dance, Princess?"

Etric was smiling at her, but his question had startled her from her reverie. Santana managed to return the smile. She did feel happy, despite her displeasure with her situation. She took another sip of her wine, letting the sweetness work its way into her veins, and nodded to the man she was betrothed to.

His grin widened, and he pushed his chair back as she did the same. He led her down to the floor eagerly, and she felt the swell of the music rush through her as the crowd parted to give them room. As they danced, Santana's mind flitted back across the room to Brittany and the way she moved, and Santana tried to channel the girl's rhythm towards her own. She doubted she could, but Etric seemed to find her dancing suitable enough. The pace of the music increased, and the dancing got wilder, until Santana could feel the small hairs against her neck curl and frizz with sweat.

Etric twirled her around so she was in his arms. It felt like the courtyard again, though this time, before Santana could think further, Etric turned and dipped her, kissing her full on the lips in the middle of everything. There seemed to be a quick hush that fell over the crowd, but as soon as it came, it was chased off by a myriad of whoops and cheers. Even Santiago roared with laughter from the dais when he saw what was happening.

Santana, shocked as she was, would not let herself be held there passively like a limp fish. She pushed back till she was standing straight up and kissing Etric back, hard and messily, their teeth bumping awkwardly before Etric adjusted. She could feel his surprise at her aggression turn into a pleased smile as he kissed her.

They did not kiss long; Santana pulled away, not wanting to give the entire palace a free show, and she curtsied to another round of whoops and applause. Her blood was pumping loudly in her ears, a dull throb as the wine coursed through her. She quickly made her way back to the dais and smiled slightly as she felt Etric's eyes on her back before he scrambled to catch up to her.

* * *

The feast went on into the late hours of the night, and when it finally began to break up, Santana found it difficult to walk straight. She'd had another cup of wine (or was it two?), and sleep weighed heavily on her eyelids. Etric helped her down off the dais and into a wide hallway, away from where most of the guests might see their princess wobble in her steps. Santana let herself be guided down the hall, her eyes half closed.

"My lord, I can take her,"

Santana felt another pair of hands wrap around her, and could feel a second body sidle up next to her.

"And who are you?" Etric asked. Santana's eyes fluttered open and found Brittany looking down at her with a kind smile.

"She's my servant, my lord." Santana said, her voice thick. Etric managed a chuckle.

"Okay then, my Princess. And girl," he turned to Brittany, "make sure she has water before she sleeps."

Brittany nodded and did as much of a bow as she could while still supporting Santana. Etric gave a quick nod in return before turning back to the feast.

"C'mon, Princess, let's get you to your chambers," Brittany murmured, wrapping one arm around Santana's waist and placing Santana's arm around her shoulders. They walked slowly but steadily through the palace which was quiet but for echoes of the festivities from the main hall.

"You're quite the dancer," Santana said as they neared her room.

"Princess?" Brittany's voice was confused.

"I saw you dancing. Tonight, with the other servants," Santana explained.

"Oh, yes. It was fun. I've never gotten to dance like that before," Brittany admitted the last part quietly.

"Well, you are a very fine dancer, Brittany." Santana was leaning heavily on Brittany by the time they reached Santana's bed. Brittany leaned and slipped Santana's arm from around her shoulders so that Santana could sit on the bed.

"Thank you, Princess." Brittany stood up to get Santana a cup of water from the pitcher on the table in her room. The pitcher was kept in ice so the water was still cool. Santana watched her through tired eyes and fell back onto the bed. Brittany giggled as she returned.

"My lady, you must sit up and drink. Lord Etric commanded it."

Santana sat up with a frown. "He's no lord yet, Brittany. And no one commands me to do anything."

"I'm sorry," Brittany nodded and bowed her head, still holding the water.

Santana took the cup from her nonetheless and drank, realizing she was indeed parched. When she finished, she handed the cup back to Brittany and shuffled across her bed until she could lie down on her pillows. She felt sleep taking her quickly.

"That's all, Brittany." She mumbled. Santana fell asleep on top of her sheets, only vaguely aware of Brittany's form slipping from her bedroom with a smile.


End file.
